


Guarding

by Elphen



Series: Nesting [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Wings, Angels Nesting, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Nesting, Nesting Behaviour, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Protectiveness, Sequel, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), aziraphale is a rock, getting fixated on one thing, protecting the bookshop, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elphen/pseuds/Elphen
Summary: Crowley is quite protective of the nest. Their nest. Even though it was Aziraphale who built it, the demon has a protective streak about the whole thing and in particular, about the feathers that are out on display. They are not to be touched by anyone.Customers as a rule aren't particularly perceptive about what they should and shouldn't touch, however, and so Crowley devices a plan to remedy it.Sometimes focus is a good thing. Other times...not so much.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Nesting [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534493
Comments: 202
Kudos: 212





	1. Protective snake

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's not the retribution fic that people might've been expecting in this series but I hope you'll bear with me. We'll get to that, too.  
> This was inspired by a few people who mentioned something along these lines. I'm sorry I can't remember your names but thank you for the inspiration.

Of the two of them, you possibly wouldn’t have imagined _Crowley_ to be the one who was incredibly protective, as well as perhaps just a teensy bit possessive, when it came to the bookshop. It was Aziraphale’s, after all, and he had gone to great lengths over the years to keep said shop safe and on his hands. Perhaps not great lengths, but effective ones, at the very least. Best to leave it at that.

Not even the fact that it now doubled as their shared nest – Crowley had yet to work up the courage to take the angel back to his flat, now that he knew what he’d done in that flat and what the plants were for, why he’d kept them – changed that fact.

In fact, you might say that that doubled down on it instead. It was Aziraphale who had been brave enough to build a nest, after all, not Crowley. A nest that he didn’t immediately demolish in a fit of uncertainty, anyway.

The point was that by rights, it should be the Principality who got snippy and defensive, to put it incredibly politely, about anyone getting into his nest, let alone try to disrupt the carefully arranged elements, such as the books, of the shop – which thankfully, in the demon’s opinion, had gone back to looking more or less exactly as it had before.

Well, at least before Aziraphale thought he needed to emulate Crowley’s flat in order to attract the demon’s attention and have a nest that he’d even bothered with, which had been a whole discussion on its own and not exactly an easy one, either.

There were a few things, however, that had stayed, such as the new upholstery on the sofa and the added cushions that the ginger might’ve…commandeered a little when he’d decided on a snooze, among other things, as well as a few things that had been added, too.

Nothing had been taken away, however. At least, nothing that hadn’t been a thoughtful but unnecessary addition. That had been very important to Crowley and he could tell that once it looked like the normal shop again – despite the clutter, or perhaps because of it, they both knew the interior very well indeed – Aziraphale immediately felt better and more relaxed. More himself, and that was really all that mattered.

Their nest should be something for each of them but as Crowley had always preferred the bookshop the way it had been, the atmosphere one that he’d come to cherish and perhaps even crave over the years, there’d been little incentive for him to alter things, to say the least.

It did not have anything to do with his continued, if generally speaking repressed, fear that they would be found out by either side and would be punished for it. Not too much, at least.

That Crowley was protective wasn’t to say that Aziraphale was laissez faire about people coming into the shop and especially not touching things. But he employed what perhaps might be described as his normal modus operandi turned up to eleven. Maybe a twelve. Whichever, it was strictly speaking nothing out of the ordinary, even if it was more intense.

As for the demon, though…

So far Aziraphale hadn’t caught onto what he’d been doing, which really was just as well. He was bound to at least disapprove.

But it really was for their own best. Nobody was supposed to barge into a nest like this, at least when they weren’t either of the nestmates. Or any of them, though a poly-nest had only happened once, as far as he knew. To have people walking in and out all the time, or even with any sort of frequency, was much like having your bedroom become a thoroughfare, with much of the same invasive feeling.

It wasn’t that he blamed Aziraphale. Not at all. No. He did everything that he could. Well, almost, but he was still an angel. He had to be a bit more subtle. Kind and nice did not equal a pushover.

He was just…assisting a little, in his own way, one that Aziraphale wouldn’t think of.

Nothing wrong with that, was there?

He settled into his chosen position a little bit more, content where he was and more than happy to just snooze for a while – this was warm and comfy and allowed him to stretch – but where he could also sense when someone came into the shop.

More importantly, it was also a position that meant they’d invariably come past it when they did go through the shop and, he thought, somewhere that wouldn’t attract Aziraphale’s immediate attention.

Once they got close enough, they would be easy enough to scare off. He might not even have to do anything, if he played his cards right.

Of course, some might argue that he couldn’t spend forever in that area of the bookshop – there was the risk of angels dropping in, for one, obviously. But if they used the front door, he’d be able to get away before they got close and in any case, he’d be able to smell them, a small advantage of being a snake demon that Aziraphale had reminded him of, gently, during one of his panic attacks about the subject.

That was anything but fool proof, however, as they could materialise if they wanted to and if they did and saw that Aziraphale had nested, then they’d want to know exactly who he’d been nesting for. They did keep records, after all, and while they were not good, to say the least, at checking up on the facts they were given, they did keep them and sorted them.

Something like nesting they very much wanted to keep track of, splitting the focus of an angel as it did – and he still did wonder about that – so they were bound to not just ask but outright demand that he tell them.

In that situation, he could hardly say something like, ‘oh, I’ve nested for a demon, in fact, but there’s no need for concern, as I’ve been in love with him for decades or centuries, rather, and I couldn’t help myself from nesting for him anymore’, could he?

Yeah, if he did that, it was a sure-fire way to get them both destroyed.

Nothing and nobody were going to destroy his angel.

He didn’t worry so much about himself in the same situation, that was, whether anyone should see anything in his home. There had never been anyone to his flat or any of the accommodations he’d held before that building had been erected. Though they did always get it wrong with technology, in some respects he was incredibly grateful to himself that he’d taught Hell about such things and that they consequently now tended towards communicating through that rather than showing up in person.

‘Infernal machines’ indeed.

Not that he was safe, of course, from neither Hell nor Heaven. It always loomed over them and he still felt it these many months later, like some sort of Sword of Damocles…who’d been quite the idiot, come to think of it.

Even with all of that in mind, he still could not bring himself to change the shop back to how it had been or remove the other traces of the nest. It’d feel like annulling them becoming nestmates even if they did not actually take that action and that…even the thought of that still made him physically ill – which was something that was still very difficult to induce in a supernatural being like them. It was not going to happen. He’d rather risk his life like this, knowing that he could be destroyed and, most likely, tortured extensively before, than go back.

Not that he disliked having been close like they had before they’d become nestmates, of course not, far from it. But having had something and _then_ lost it felt eminently worse than not having had it at all. The knowledge of just what you’d lost burned in a whole other way.

There was the saying of ‘better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’, but he could sneer at that one easily. He had always loved, at least his one angel, almost as soon as he’d slithered up to him on that fateful days for all parties involved, and he always would. That was rather the point.

So, he would protect it with all of his might, all of his tricks, but he would not destroy it in the course of that protection. At least, not consciously so…and there went one of his other fears, didn’t it?

It was a good thing that he meant to keep an eye on customers rather than actually sleep where he was, what with all the thoughts swirling around his head. Especially seeing as they weren’t positive.

If he did fall asleep with all of those pinballing around his mind, it would like as not end up with a nightmare, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with that.

Nor did he want Aziraphale to have to deal with it, and he would try to if, or probably when, he found out that Crowley had been having a horrible nightmare about his fears, which would all gang up on him, cowards that they were.

He did not want to be a burden to his angel. At least, any more than he likely already was. The thought twisted something inside of him, small but old and gnarly for all that. Resilient.

But he could be useful here.

If he could scare the customers off, then rumour might spread that it was an undesirable, perhaps even dangerous place to visit and people would cease coming altogether, which would soothe his ruffled feathers – and wasn’t that putting it mildly. And it would keep them from attempting to buy the books, any of them, which would please Aziraphale.

Happy supernatural beings all around.

It might be Aziraphale’s bookshop and also his nest, technically speaking, but the angel was Crowley’s nestmate. It was up to the demon to make sure that nobody and nothing interfered with or sullied what his angel had so carefully built for him. His duty as a nestmate, you might say.

Yes. he could definitely do that.

* * *

The first customer that dared to venture in was only looking for directions to a different kind of store, very politely, too, and was speedily sent on his way.

It wasn’t long, however, before there was someone else who was foolish enough to not merely wander in but actually thought it a good idea to try and browse.

Crowley shifted where he lay. He’d positioned himself relatively well, he thought, and had yet to be seen by the blond, which was good. All he needed now was just for the other to come a little bit closer and –

He didn't get the opportunity to do anything; it seemed that the customer spotted him rather quickly and immediately backed away from where he lay, eyes wide and frightened, mouth hanging open slightly as a nasal, barely audible small shriek erupted from him. It was quite remarkable how nimble a man could become even when stumbling backwards.

The front door slammed with a force that threatened to jingle the bell straight off the small hook it hung on.

Well, then. That was something, at least – he was quite effective. Now to see whether it was a singular occurrence or whether it could apply more universally.

Part of him wondered why there wasn’t any comment from Aziraphale at that, but he put it down to the other probably being preoccupied with a book. Probably? Hah. That was much like saying that there’d _probably_ be flies buzzing around Lord Beelzebub, wasn’t it?

Just as well, really. It would allow him to set a baseline for people, wouldn’t it? Before Aziraphale saw him.

For some reason, which he would later seriously question and be unable to answer, he didn’t stop to consider why he didn’t particularly want Aziraphale to see him do this.

Nor did he spot that Aziraphale, while he did in fact have a book in his hand, was not entirely engrossed in it and therefore lost to the world around him. Not even the small corner of it that encompassed as his bookshop.

Instead, he was cataloguing a new, small batch of books that he had managed to get hold of through quite a long negotiation with another book dealer. Though he was pretty absorbed in what he was doing, he still had at least half an eye on the bookshop and the goings-on in it these days.

If he didn’t, he feared what might happen, to it or to himself or Crowley.

It was no Eastern Gate but guard that door, he would.

* * *

The next customer came not half an hour later.

When the jangle of the door sounded, it startled the poor snake who had in fact been just about to drop off to sleep despite genuine efforts to stay alert and awake, to act as a proper guard as well as to avoid nightmares, the books surrounding him and the sun streaming in through the windows both lending warmth to his little hidey hole.

He lifted his head to look for whoever it was who’d braved it now and if his eyes could’ve narrowed in his current form, they would’ve.

They had the look of someone who wasn’t easily dissuaded from whatever task they’d set themselves. Nor did they look particularly inclined to be frightened. Not even by something so immediately dangerous as a giant snake.

Crowley wasn’t going to be put off, though.

He would prove to Aziraphale that he was capable of protecting the nest from intruders. This time it might be human ones, but it would, hopefully, prove that he could be used for other…adversaries, too.

It felt imperative that he got to showcase that to his angel.

Exactly _why_ it felt imperative his mind skirted very carefully around without ever touching it, as if it would explode if it did.

The customer was slowly coming closer to the shelf where Crowley had placed himself. He’d had to remove a few books to be able to fit in there without muscles cramping up or similar, or even at all, really, given how packed the shop was, but he had placed all of the ones he’d removed on a table that could hold the stack without breaking or spilling them.

For all of his mind’s hiccups in general and its failure to think things through in this pursuit to do right by his angel and his nest, and slightly also soothe his own ruffled feathers about anyone daring to try to ruin it, he wasn’t quite single-minded or daft enough to risk putting Aziraphale’s books in danger. That would be tantamount to self-destruction, basically.

Closer, closer…

And he turned the wrong way.

No matter. He’d come back this way. There were far more stuff that would have to be of interest – Crowley was going purely by a half-remembered description Aziraphale had once given him about the different sections and how they were classified, though it had seemed it only made sense to the angel – to someone such as him.

Crowley didn’t notice that Aziraphale had moved, too. Not intercepting or even interacting with the customer, yet, but he was aware of his presence – and that of his snake’s, too.

The demon waited patiently for the customer to get close. Just a little bit further.

Then the doorbell jingled again and brought another customer. One who seemed entirely unrelated to the first one but looked much more anxious yet determined. A bit of blabbermouth, too.

Oh, yes. Perfect.

And she was headed in exactly the right direction, too.


	2. What's precious I will protect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In his protection of the bookshop, Crowley notices something that sends his instincts on high alert and he reacts accordingly. Aziraphale steps in. Dealing with the emotional aftermath...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's followed me onto reading this instalment, too, and those who have left feedback of any kind. I do recognise your usernames when you leave kudos and I'm very happy to see them <3

He stuck his head forward a little more so that he could better see and better be seen at the same time.

There was a point where it looked as though she had found what she was looking for long before she got even close to him and he tensed. There was still…no, she put the book down again with a little sigh and moved further in. In the right direction.

Where was the other customer? Hopefully he wouldn’t intercept her, not before they both got a good long look at him, to show them why they might want to find another bookshop to do their browsing in.

Ah. Found him. Good. Close enough to see, he’d reckon, or at least close enough to hear when she screamed.

He had no intention of biting them, of course. That would be going too far for the purpose – and there’d be no need, either.

Closer yet. Just another few yards, to make absolutely sure she could see him before he stirred or hissed at her, and then –

His vision went red.

She’d stopped again. It wasn’t a book she was looking at, however, but something else. Something that was tucked away and had so far remained undetected and undisturbed by the masses trampling through but apparently, she had a gift for spotting such things without the sense to leave well enough alone.

Something infinitely more precious than a book.

He didn’t know what kind of noise he made, only that it was pained and loud enough to be ear-splitting. She did in fact scream herself as he lunged towards her, books crashing down from the shelves around him as he did so, growing even bigger than he’d already been.

The feather she’d picked up was dropped almost immediately and though it did technically float down, it looked more like a drop.

Not that he registered that at the moment.

She shouldn’t – nobody should touch that, that was priceless. That was given to him, it belonged to his nestmate, she shouldn’t be sullying it. It was _his!_

His mouth opened wider as he fell towards her, his fangs long and white.

She scrambled backwards, right into the other customer who took one look at the nightmare descending upon them and turned to run. Unfortunately, he didn’t look where he was going and bumped straight into a round table, which rocked and spilled some of its burden but didn’t tip over.

It did slow him down and consequently, also slowed the woman coming behind him. She didn’t try to fight him, just push past, which, given that he was trying to do the same, ended in a tangle of limbs that stumbled and flailed. The speed of which only grew when there was the thunderous thud of a very large, very heavy snake hitting the wooden floor of a building that was, for all that it was well-kept, also old and invariably worn.

Despite their continued movement, it was the snake that was gaining, still hissing with its mouth wide open.

The angel stepped fully into view at that, took in the tableau and set to work.

He grabbed hold of the two humans by their arms and more or less dragged them out of the shop, with a speed that was uncharacteristic of the blond but fully necessary in the circumstances, as Crowley had only slowed in his pursuit, not stopped.

Neither of the two humans had the presence of mind to try and stop, despite the relative gentleness of Aziraphale’s grip, and soon enough they were standing outside the bookshop.

Once there, Aziraphale didn’t quite let go of them, though he did cease to hold on in the physical sense, lest he gave the wrong impression.

“Now,”, he said, looking at the both of them, “when you leave here, you won’t remember anything about any snake or that you have even visited here. Instead, you will remember this as quite the wrong sort of shop for your needs and will avoid it henceforth.”

They nodded, somewhat slowly, a faraway look to their gaze, and he smiled.

“There now. That’s better, isn’t it? Have a lovely day now, _do not_ call again.”

With that, he turned around, closed the shop door behind him and…made sure that it wouldn’t be opened again, by anyone bar him. Or Crowley, should he need it. But they definitely weren’t going to be disturbed.

He walked with quick, decisive steps back to where he’d left Crowley, who was thankfully more or less where he had left him.

Even so, he called out, in a slightly sharp voice, “Crowley!”

The demon had stayed as a large serpent the entire time Aziraphale had been dealing with humans but now, under the angel’s glare, he changed back into his human shape.

Immediately, however, his attention turned, now that he had hands again, to the floor. He bent and when he rose back up, he was cradling the feather in his hands as gently and as carefully as a prematurely born baby.

It seemed more than a little worse for wear, but it was nothing that couldn’t be sorted, given that, well…

But that didn’t matter. It was meant to be immaculate and untouched and now it was…it’d been…

However, it wasn’t his to fix. It might’ve been presented to him, along with the rest of the nest, and he’d called it ‘his’ in his mind, but it wasn’t. That had been an instinct fuelled thought and while he was still very much caught in that mindset right now, he had clawed enough sense back to realise that.

The nest, and therefore the feather, was still Aziraphale’s and only he ought to fix it. Which was part of the reason why an angel who’d lost their nestmate was so particularly distressed if anything ever happened to the nest feathers from their lost partner. Technically, yes, of course they could fix it and do so to perfection. They were angels, after all. But they would always know not only that it had been fixed but they’d been the culprit, as it were, through and through.

And while that only really applied to lost nestmates that were also the nest-maker, which was a percentage of a percentage, the sheer number of angels in the Heavens, from high to low, meant that it was still a significant number of ethereal beings.

So, Crowley held it out to Aziraphale with an expression that might on someone else have resembled a child holding a precious, broken thing up to its parent with the desperate hope and belief that they can sort it. They had to sort it because it was all wrong now.

The angel’s expression in turn melted from a steely glare and a thin set to the mouth to a soft silver of hurt and understanding as he took in the feather, its state and the state of his nestmate.

Oh.

He brought his own hands up and manoeuvred them carefully between the cupped hands of the demon and the battered feather. However, he didn’t then move it over to himself but kept it where it was as he closed his eyes and muttered for a moment.

Light surrounded the cracked and ruffled, delicate object and Crowley felt the warmth of the miracle as it flowed from the angel and into the damaged article. It was incredibly tempting to reach out and snag a tad of that miracle for himself or rather, it would be, if the demon would’ve had the thought. He didn’t, however, not even an inkling.

What did cross his mind was something else entirely.

He was using a miracle…to heal one of his feathers. Would that be noticed by upstairs? Why would he use a miracle on something like that if not because it was a nesting feather and then they would –

The light and warmth of the miracle seeped into him, though whether that was intentional or not wasn’t clear. But it did send a wave of calm into him, too, and, at least for the moment, that pushed that worry out of his brain.

He wasn’t intending on stealing anything meant for the feather, though, and tried to pull his hands away, in the knowledge that the feather wouldn’t fall again.

“Stay,” Aziraphale said, quietly, gently, but nevertheless firmly.

He didn’t try to physically stay Crowley’s hands this time, the implication that that wasn’t merely because his hands were otherwise occupied right then detectable, but nevertheless, Crowley stopped trying to take his hands away.

As he watched, the feather became whole again, as though it had never been touched.

Once done, the light and warmth retracted from the white fluff almost instantly but seemed to linger in the demon’s bones. Oddly, however, it still felt good and comforting.

“Why didn’t that burn?” he asked then, in slowly dawning realisation. “You kept it up for that long instead of just snapping it – “

“Snapping your fingers to facilitate is more your territory, my dear, I do not do that.”

“Sometimes you do,” the ginger argued, though exactly why he was arguing the point eluded him.

Crowley had to then shake himself to bring his mind back into focus, both from what had just occurred – the miracle rather than the defence, though – and the accompanying relief of having the feather restored, which was immense.

“But it should’ve hurt, is the point I’m trying to make here. It’s an angelic miracle, it should’ve burned me, not soothed me.” And it had soothed him. “Consecrated ground burned my feet that time and that was done by a human, not an angel.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Aziraphale conceded, contemplation nudging the returning steel aside, at least for the moment. “I would venture to suggest that the fact that it’s connected to the feather, something designated as part of a nest and that nest is for you might overrule the fact that it is an angelic miracle. That you are part of it.”

Crowley could’ve called it bullshit, as he was still a demon and that really trumped everything. But then, when he thought about it, he’d been the one to perform miracles in place of Aziraphale when he’d gone to do his part of the Arrangement, hadn’t he? Angelic miracles, too, which was an important distinction to make. Perhaps it made a difference that a demon had been performing them rather than an actual angel but even so…

Bloody hell, his mind was not in a state to deal with all of this.

All he’d wanted to do was protect the feather and, by extension, the nest. His… _Aziraphale’s_ nest.

He watched as the angel lifted the feather up out of their sort of joined hands and placed it, as carefully as if it was made of the most fragile of crystal, back on a shelf, relatively high up. About the same height that Crowley had chosen for his hiding spot, in fact, which could hardly be a coincidence.

Though he placed it on an adjacent, undisturbed shelf, he had a good view of Crowley’s hiding spot as he did so and when he turned back to the demon, his expression was…complicated.

“Care to tell me what _that_ was all about, then, Crowley, my dear?” he said, the pleasantness of his tone incongruous and just a bit worrying.

Crowley didn’t answer. Not because he didn’t intend to answer, not exactly. It was more that he was still somewhat hazy after it all and also just a tiny bit because he didn’t quite know how he ought to answer.

The blond wasn’t going to let it go, however, waiting with apparent patience and the clear implication that the snake was going to answer regardless.

After a moment or two, Crowley did.

“She touched it,” he said, his teeth a little gritted. Maybe more than a little. “She shouldn’t touch it.”

Blond eyebrows rose just slightly but the expression didn’t otherwise change. Whether that was a good thing or not wasn’t clear.

“And so, in the very small amount of time that she could conceivably have touched it, you not only managed to turn into a snake of significant proportion, you succeeded in getting up onto a shelf that you could fall from to attack her – “

“I didn’t attack!” Crowley protested. He’d been…he hadn’t intended to _attack_ her, for all his nature and the threat she’d posed, only scare her off. Had he really –?

“Lunge at her,” Aziraphale amended, his voice softening just a smidgeon, “from a shelf that should’ve been full to the brim with books rather than empty and yet none of said books seem to have been scattered about on the floor. I must commend you on your quick thinking, especially when you were otherwise so fully in the claws of protective instincts.”

“Ehm, I – “

“Crowley, I am not stupid,” the blond said, walking closer to the ginger, “I could sense you change earlier. Don’t you think I recognise the scents within my own shop? Especially yours, my dear.”

Aziraphale was still using endearments and not in that barbed or at least spiked way that he, and many other people, used when they were actually ticked off with the person they were addressing. Well, not much like that, anyway.

But he’d had a legitimate reason to – couldn’t Aziraphale see that?

Not if he didn’t tell him, no, he couldn’t. Of course, he couldn’t.

His brain quietly whispered that this was wrong, this was all wrong, he shouldn’t have done that…but it did so from the outside and didn’t get through.

“Why were you trying to attack – “

“I wasn’t trying to _attack_ them.”

That really was a point he wanted to stress. Part of him bridled that if he’d _wanted_ to attack them, he bloody well would’ve done, successfully, too, but that was the same part that had considered this whole venture a good idea, so to place faith in that was perhaps not a good idea.

“I only wanted to scare them off, properly. Make sure they didn’t ever want to come in here again. Told others so they didn’t want to come here ever, either. Start a rumour.”

“A rumour.”

The way Aziraphale said it was entirely neutral, as if he’d deliberately taken any possible inflection out of it. However, interestingly, that did not give it the faint hint of sarcasm or similar, as might have been expected in such a case.

Crowley heard it or rather the lack of it, but right then his brain was stuck in the focus of protecting the nest and consequently, explaining why he had to protect it and so he ignored it.

“Yes,” he said. “I know you’ve had your own way of getting people out and that it’s worked so far. But there’s been so many coming and going lately, after…well, after, and it’s – so I thought that if they believed there was something scary in the shop rather than it just being difficult to get into, because to a lot of humans that’s encouragement, then they’d actively try to avoid it at all costs.”

“Something scary like a snake that’s large enough that people would assume it had escaped from a circus or a zoo rather than be a safe pet, perhaps?”

“Yes.”

Well, he hadn’t thought of that, to be honest, but that didn’t need to be a bad thing, did it? Besides, though he could become smaller, if he needed to, wasn’t it a good thing to be large enough to be seen from a distance, too? Certainly, that way there wasn’t the risk that they wouldn’t be scared of him.

Not everyone would be scared of a snake on its own but add size to the equation and it should make up the difference.

“That had just happened to find its way into a bookshop.”

Crowley frowned. “This is Soho, innit? A bookshop’s more incongruous than a snake in that context.”

“Where it could curl up on a high shelf, ready to pounce in the first people it saw.”

It wouldn’t be a very good rumour if they were mildly surprised by it, would it? I needed it to work first time so that they got the message to stay away.”

Aziraphale stared at him for a moment, then took a deep breath that was clearly meant to be calming, though it didn’t appear to be anger, specifically, that he needed to calm, despite the earlier reaction and his questions now. Instead, it seemed something else, something rather more complex and just a little bit sad.

“And it didn’t occur to you that if you did indeed create such a rumour, then there would be health inspectors – “

“Health inspectors? What would there be _health inspectors_ for?”

“– and the RSPCA, possibly even pest control.”

“Pest con – I’m not a pest!”

The indignity of both that thought and the idea that there would be a need for _health inspectors in a bookshop_ rode into his mind on its charger, knocking over the small bell meant to toll that something was wrong with this, which had been ringing quietly but insistently up until now.

Aziraphale smiled a little at that. “No, just a terrible nuisance at times.”

Crowley drew his head back in further indignation at that – at a later point he’d remember and be just a little bit glad that he’d reacted like that in the circumstances rather than with nervousness or hurt…well, it wasn’t the main reaction, at least, not then – and then he saw the small glint in green eyes.

“You’re taking the piss.” He relaxed just a little. They were getting better at this whole thing, weren’t they? A little, anyway. But small steps forward were better than going backwards and even standing still.

“To put it crudely, yes. To an extent, at least.”

The smile faded a little at that and the angel moved over quickly to sit beside his demon. Right up close, too, and Crowley immediately, almost without thinking, wrapped his arm around him, which was not only accepted but snuggled into, without question.

“That said, my dear, I do realise that you were only trying to help. Surely, you must realise, too, though, what a precarious position you put yourself in by doing it.”

“I wasn’t going to fall, not without intending to do so – “

“That was not what I meant.” A small but nevertheless deeply felt sigh escaped him. However, it sounded more concerned than it did exasperated. “Not in the slightest. You must know that to settle onto a shelf like that where you could be easily spotted would…well…”

“I meant to be spotted, to get rid of the customers.” It was odd, the number of times he had to repeat that, though he wasn’t quite sure whose benefit it was oddest for.

A minute flash of…not exactly anger, but the crackle of mental fire was visible in Aziraphale’s eyes at that. “Yes. Quite so. But apart from the investigation that would’ve led to from either of the aforementioned agencies, if not all, which would in turn mean I would have to…direct them elsewhere. Something which I would rather _not_ have to do but I will if need be…”

The steel was now clear, in the eyes and most definitely in the voice. No neutrality there.

“…Apart from that, there is also a more…celestial matter to consider.”

“I was considering it! I was doing this, so that I’d be ready to protect the nest from those glorioles should they ever turn up here again!” Crowley protested, vehemence in his voice.

Then he realised, in a great cascade in his mind as his brain finally broke through the barriers into the control room, not purely what he’d just said, now and in this entire discussion, but how it…not so much came across as how the idea behind it had been a momentously stupid one.

He couldn’t fight several angels at once if they came here and discovered him out in the open like that. Well, no, he possibly could, if he was prepared for them – and got very lucky, he didn’t mind admitting to that. But if he did, even if he won, then he’d have the rest of the self-righteous berks after him, who’d be quite happy to utterly destroy a demon, especially if it was one who’d destroyed one of them in turn.

That wasn’t even the worst bit. The worst bit was that in his bid to try and protect Aziraphale and their nest along with it, he had in fact put him in greater danger of being discovered, of being destroyed himself.

He’d actually – had in fact – how the heaven had he not noticed that before – oh, _fuck!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew...feels like a lot happened in this chapter, or am I wrong? I certainly feel a little drained having written that. Might take a little bit to get the next chapter out, as a result, but I hope not too long. Hope there wasn't a mood whiplash, either.
> 
> Perhaps, at least, the disclaimer earlier makes a bit more sense now, I don't know.


	3. Crowley is a bit of a mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a realisation or two and he neither finds them slowly and carefully nor does he react too well when he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too long a wait, I hope, and thank you for the support, it really means the world of difference. I know the chapter title might be a series title, I just didn't know what to call it.

His expression must’ve conveyed more than he thought because Aziraphale gathered him into his arms immediately, wrapping them around him tight.

Crowley struggled against the hold, not feeling like he deserved anything like his angel trying to console him like this. Not when he’d…he’d put them in danger like that!

As always, however, he struggled in vain. A small part of him couldn’t but marvel at the strength in the soft, rounded corporation but then again, Aziraphale wasn’t a human, despite appearances. It didn’t follow that his strength should match what would be expected of a human body.

That didn’t mean it was any more appreciated in the moment, of course.

“It’s alright, dear, it’s – “

“It’s _not_! It’s not alright!”

He almost shouted it into the shoulder his forehead was pressed into. How had he not only done it but had so stubbornly been of the opinion that he was in the right, had been blind…no, so unwilling to see just what his actions might’ve wrought.

“I have been so bloody _scared_ that they’d find out, that they’d tear us apart and to shreds, feared that any little thing would alert them that we’ve become nestmates – and then I go and broadcast it all by staying, in the snake form that’s so easily recognisable, too, out in plain view for any wandering angel berk to see should they drop in!”

And he’d been working on thinking things through, too, and not to let things, outside factors run his thinking for him. Yeah, right, done a real good job on that, hadn’t he? Top marks there and everything. Didn’t make it better when what you swapped it for, if he ever really did swap, was inward anxieties and even when it wasn’t that, it was instinct telling him what he ought to do.

No, he couldn’t even blame it on that, at least not entirely. It was him as much as anything, being a complete and utter –

Aziraphale did… _something_ with his hand down the length of the ginger’s back, right along his spine, which not only sent a shuddering bolt through him but seemed to cut his strings in the process. That in turn made him almost boneless as tension bled from his muscles like a starving vampire offered his very favourite blood type.

Despite that, it didn’t feel as though Crowley had no control of his limbs now. Just very limited control, which didn’t alter his current situation. It did help him relax just a little, though. Which was likely the plan.

He could somewhat manage to lift his head, after an attempt or two, and looked up at the angel, who smiled down at him and then leaned in to kiss him, on his forehead, where his lips stayed, a gentle pressure against his skin.

Another shudder ran through Crowley at that but for an entirely different reason.

A fat tear ran down his cheek, slowly enough that it was more correct to say it strolled. One equally fat one ran to catch up on the other side and soon enough, there was almost a queue.

His hands, which had tried to push the angel away earlier, now clutched at the lapels of Aziraphale’s coat as if they were an anchor without which he’d be lost to sea.

There was no sound as he cried, however, even though his shoulders started to shake with the effort.

He did try to speak, however. Try being the operative word there.

“I’m sorry…I never…never meant to…I should’ve thought about…but I always seem to…”

“Shhhh, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured gently, moving himself closer to his demon and pulling him tighter to him. “Shush, it’s okay. Believe me, it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Crowley repeated in protest, voice thick. “It’s _not._ I should’ve known, should’ve thought that I’d be putting you in danger. I only wanted, wanted to protect, to make sure the nest didn’t…wasn’t sullied by anyone. I kept thinking of your feathers being picked up by some, some human or worse, someone like Gabriel and I – “He choked on a lump in his throat.

Why had not seen it before now? How could he have been that blind? Why was he crying over it? Not just crying but almost sobbing, actually. Had he really lost that much control of himself that the merest little thing was going to set him off like this?

It wasn’t the ‘merest little thing’, though, was it?

Aziraphale being taken from him, because of his own stupidity, was not a little thing.

Why do I keep screw things like this up?

He hadn’t realised he’d spoken the words out loud until he got an answer from Aziraphale.

“You don’t, Crowley. Truly, you don’t ruin things, merely bend them at worst, and I do see your reasoning. Honestly, I do. I should’ve put more thought into how having a nest might affect not just you but the both of us, really, shouldn’t I?”

Turning that last bit into a question like to try to soften things was sweet of him. It also did very little to achieve that.

Crowley shook his head, minutely. “You weren’t to know I’d go and…and…” Bless it all, why was talking always made so difficult when he was like this?

“I _should_ have known,” Aziraphale said and he sounded apologetic, sincerely so, and more than a little saddened. “It’s hardly uncommon to get protective of a nest, is it? Especially with so much at stake in keeping it guarded.”

A soft hand carded through Crowley’s hair at that and he couldn’t help pushing up into it. “I most definitely should have talked with you about it before now instead of waiting until now where it’s taking such a toll on you.”

“‘m fine…” He wasn’t but he didn’t need to let on…

_Yeah, because that’s not abundantly obvious otherwise, oh, no. Nobody would ever suspect, what with the crying and the apologies, not to mention **everything else**?_

No, but perhaps he could claw that back. He shouldn’t be…it shouldn’t impact Aziraphale like this. He didn’t deserve to have to deal with...well…

The hand tightened in the hair for a fraction of a second. Despite the briefness, the strength was unmistakeable.

“I thought we talked about being honest with each other, dear.”

“I am.” Doubling down on the lie, too, then? Well, yes, because –

“And about not letting protection stand in the way of that honesty.”

Oh. _Oh._

Aziraphale caught onto that, did he? Not that he wasn’t being truthful, that didn’t surprise him, despite his insistence on maintaining the illusion, but the reason why he was doing it.

Of course, he did. He was clever, after all, and not just book smart, either. Well, mainly that but Crowley had learned that when it came to them, that Aziraphale might have uncertainties and anxieties but he was the far more…not confident, that suggested something else, but courageous, perhaps?

Yes, that sounded right. Willing to face their problems head-on, confront them and deal with them where Crowley just made a further mess of things when he tried to –

Lips pressed against his forehead again but briefly this time as the hands returned to both wrap around him.

“Oh, dearest, how can I possibly help you?”

“You don’t, don’t need to go to such lengths for – “

The angel’s grip tightened to the point of painful but gentled immediately, plump hands slid up and down the length of the ginger’s long back as softly and carefully as possible.

“Aziraphale?” he asked. His voice was still thick, and now slightly raspy, from crying but that didn’t matter.

“I do wish you’d…” There he trailed off though it seemed more like he was cutting himself off than merely not knowing what to say.

“What?”

“…Not doubt yourself as much you do, especially in relation to me. To this, to us being nestmates. You’ve got so much better at it, I’ll be the very first to admit that and I’m proud of you for it, but it still pops up from time to time. It’s not that I blame you, mind, not at all, even if I cannot claim to properly understand all of it. I…I suppose I just wish I had a far better inkling of how I could help you – and I might not _need_ to, but I want to, understand?”

Crowley pulled back a little at that and was allowed to.

“I’m…” he began then stopped, uncertain of how he should phrase it and even of what precisely he wanted to say, his head still very much a mess. The angel waited for him to speak, as patient as anything.

“I’m not really sure I know, either,” he admitted after some long moments had passed.

He felt, and probably looked, simultaneously severely annoyed, if not outright frustrated, and sincerely apologetic as he said it. On top of that, he also looked and felt embarrassed if not outright ashamed, but that went rather beyond this current question, quite apart from being incredibly uncharacteristic for a demon.

If he knew how to fix it, how to stop being this much of an utter _idiot_ even in important situations, perhaps especially in important situations, then he would do it immediately. Of course, he would. As it was, it was only a matter of time before he screwed it up irreparably, he knew.

The fact that he’d been working at it and yet had still managed to bugger things up…

“I’m not sure it can be fixed. That I can – “

Lips pressed against his, in what seemed to be an attempt to stop him speaking and soothe him at the same time. He would have to admit that it worked.

“You do not need to be fixed, my dearest. There is nothing in you that is broken.” Though the words were warm and loving, the tone had that steel that brooked no argument.

Not that that was going to stop Crowley, not in this case. He knew how he was. What he was.

He opened his mouth to speak but the look in the other’s eyes shut it back up.

“Being a demon doesn’t equal being broken – and yes, I am aware of the things I’ve said over the years, the things I’ve called you. A good memory isn’t always the boon one would expect it to be.”

The angel sighed, a look of guilt crossing his features before it sank into the, frankly, muddle of emotions already on display there.

“I will _never_ consider you broken, and this mess is as much my fault as it is yours, if not more so. No, definitely more my fault.”

“No!” The word flew out of the demon the moment he registered what had been said. The strength of it surprised him, though only a little, because he meant it strongly.

“No, it’s not your fault at all. It was _me_ , me who didn’t think, who couldn’t get past that kneejerk instinct that nobody should ever touch the nest.”

“Oh, dearest…I rather suspect that you are rather more on the right path even if you did perhaps overdo it.”

Crowley’s face twisted hard at that.

“Don’t try to placate me, Aziraphale,” Crowley said and amidst the misery there was more than a hint of anger in his voice and his face. “Just because I’m a fucking _mess,_ and I know I am, that doesn’t mean you need to…to soothe me like that. I _know_ I’ve messed up and how I did not see it, see just how dangerous it was when – “

His voice rose as he spoke and by the end, he was on the verge of shouting.

Where was all of this anger coming from? Most of the emotions, however much he was struggling to deal with them, he could at least understand to one degree or another, but the anger? The anger he was seriously wrestling to get to grips with in his understanding and to be honest, he was failing.

He reined it in hard, as much as he possibly could, because he meant it when he said it was not Aziraphale’s fault and he wasn’t going to make it Aziraphale’s fault by venting his feelings on him.

Granted, he’d vented his misery and tears on him, his insecurities and the rest, but if there was one thing that he didn’t want to vent to his nestmate anymore, it was anger.

It was always anger that had caused cracks and issues between them. Well, not exclusively but on the main, and he…he…

Where had all the good intentions gone? Everything they had talked about in relation to being nestmates? How had he managed to –

And now he was going around in circles, not just in what he was saying and thinking, but what he was feeling, too. Round and round like large, vomit-inducing merry-go-round and like a merry-go-round at too fast a speed, things were beginning to blur together, becoming spikes of colour, or in this case, feelings.

The misery flared, then the anger, then the fear and then it was back to the misery and he…he…

“Aziraphale, help…” It came out as a wobbling, barely audible whisper, staring down at a point between them, not really seeing anything at all. “I don’t know what’s happening…”

The angel didn’t say anything.

Instead, he brought his hands and arms more firmly around the lanky body, shifting them in a way that might appear somewhat strange for the position they were sat in.

He didn’t let up, however, even as the demon started to shake.

The reason became clear soon enough; skin and clothes gave way to smooth scales of black and copper-red, the body still shaking insofar as a snake body was capable of shaking. Aziraphale’s hold then not only fitted better with the long coil of serpent as broad in body as its human version was, it actually helped keep the snake in place, still on the sofa and pressed up against him rather than a dangling mess partway on the sofa, partway on the floor and the rest somewhere in between.

A distressed hissing issued from between its lips and if there was any expression to be easily gleaned from those unblinking yellow eyes, it was one of bewildered anguish.

Aziraphale made a series of soft noises that was meant to soothe and help. He shifted and pushed at the long body, encouraging it even closer until, despite the sheer size of the serpent, he had managed to get at least most of it into his lap. It helped that the snake went willingly, Crowley allowing himself to be manhandled, for a given value of ‘man’, until he was a tight coil on top of the blond, taking up the entirety of his lap

Not that that seemed to bother the angel. Nor did the weight of it, despite the fact that it was a considerable one, to put it mildly, and had to be crushing somewhat.

In fact, the only issue he seemed to have was that soon after the demon had shifted into his serpent form and coiled into a heap, he slid his head down amongst those coils, effectively hiding his face and his expression from the other.

He couldn’t hide the way he was still trembling hard nor the continued hissing, though.

A hand made its way down between the coils, gently and carefully, mindful that they could tighten further and crush something inadvertently. It _would_ be inadvertently, however distressed or lost to the outside world Crowley might be at the moment.

He would never intentionally hurt his angel, regardless of whether they had become nestmates or not.

When the hand finally reached what it had been searching, the head, it slid underneath the jaw, got a grip on it and began to tug. The snake resisted, even when Aziraphale tugged harder.

No. Not this time. He was not going to…he couldn’t…he had nothing to offer, no reason to be…

Eventually, Aziraphale would realise just what a humongous mistake he’d made by accepting becoming Crowley’s nestmate and would be glad to be shod of him.

“Come, my dear. I’m right here. It’s okay. Or it will be, I promise you. We will work it out, one way or the other. I understand you need this, truly, I do, and I will not take that from you. I’m here, I promise you. But please…” He paused, wetting his lips. “Please don’t hide from me. Whatever else might occur, don’t hide from me, either metaphorically or literally. Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not a long chapter, again, and I'm sorry, it just seems...so compacted with things, somehow. That and I apparently put myself a lot in Crowley's shoes...it's draining me quite a bit.


	4. I'm here, still, and so are you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale tries to soothe and comfort his snake demon while at the same time trying to work out what is the real matter while Crowley is stuck inside his mind, even when he's talking with Aziraphale. There can be a lot of thoughts in such a mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience and understanding everyone! You are the best! Sorry if the chapter summary seems very bombastic, I couldn't think of a better way of phrasing it.

It took an almost excruciatingly long while but eventually, finally, the angel’s patience began to pay off. The head rose slowly, evidently incredibly reluctantly, the hissing not increasing but definitely gaining a pleading edge, but rise it did, and that was what was important.

Even so, when he first emerged and he could see Aziraphale again, was reminded of what he’d done – not that he’d managed to actually push it out of his mind but it was still being confronted with it in a whole other manner – he felt a very strong urge to duck back down.

Possibly never come out. Just become a frozen snake statue forever more.

He certainly couldn’t screw things up further that way, could he?

Except…

Except that that would hurt Aziraphale. Looking at that familiar face beloved beyond words, despite his best efforts, there was no doubt that he would nor that he already had.

Part of him, though to be entirely fair it was a nasty but small part, whispered that that was merely proof that he didn’t deserve this. That he was a demon, bound to poison and pollute, to sully everything that he touched, sooner or later.

That Aziraphale would indeed be better off with another angel than with Crowley –

He would’ve gone cross-eyed if he could. As it was, he was stuck, unless he changed back, and he wasn’t even certain he could do that right then, without being able to even focus on the touched bit in question, much less go cross-eyed over it.

All he could do was feel it. The press of warm, supple, slightly moist lips against his equally warm, if not warmer, but entirely dry snout.

“I can see it,” Aziraphale whispered. As though that made any sense whatsoever.

Despite his lack of facial expressions in this form – and that was one thing he dearly missed about his human shape while in this shape, among a lot of others – Crowley somehow managed to convey the giant question mark he felt like.

And he hadn’t moved out of the tight coil he was in.

“Your thoughts, my dearest. I may not know them exactly, but I can hazard a good guess based on what I can see. You’ve tensed up again, all over your body in that special sort of way that means your mind has hijacked your body, as well as the rest of you, strapped you in and has sent all of you careening off into oncoming traffic and an unquestionable collision.”

The angel smiled a little at himself. “Yes, I know. Bear with me, please.”

He stroked a hand over the top of the snake’s head, ever so gently, and Crowley couldn’t help it, he pressed up into it, the skin of the palm feeling magnificent against his scales.

“Apart from my…questionable metaphor, it does hold quite true, though, I would say. You do tend to lock yourself up in there when left with a problem and to your own devices, but there’s not enough room for all the thoughts you have bottled up inside, let alone the new ones you think up while in there.”

His other hand came up to exactly the point where his heart was, laying itself gently over it. How did he _know?_ It wasn’t as though the bookshelves were overflowing with books on herpetology, was it?

_“_ Then, when you add your feelings to that mixture, it’s a wonder that it doesn’t blow up more often than it does, with how much is stuffed inside this space.” He let his hand stroke over the top of the snake’s head again, to illustrate the point, possibly.

Crowley didn’t say anything and not merely because he couldn’t at that point. Supernatural being or not, there was such a thing as vocal cords, which he did not possess in this form. He did continue to look at the angel, though, rather than attempt to dive back down among his coils, which was something.

“I do not know how I can possibly help you with that, though, dearest, I have to admit,” Aziraphale confessed and the honest regret and apology in his voice made something inside Crowley twist and feel even worse about himself.

At the same time, however, there was a small sense of relief and gratitude there, too, much as it was probably horrible of him to think so; that Aziraphale felt genuine care for him. Love, but one that cared as well, which wasn’t actually a given.

Which he knew that he did, of course he knew. It wasn’t as though he was…well, it wasn’t as though Aziraphale hadn’t shown him multiple times. That didn’t mean getting confirmation of that fact wasn’t appreciated or even necessary.

Nor did it mean that Crowley stopped feeling unworthy of that care, of course, but that was…not quite another matter but at least it was entirely separate from the care in that it didn’t alter or diminish it.

The angel continued speaking.

“However, that does not mean that I won’t try to help you in any way that I – no, don’t shake your head at me like that. I am here, I am not going anywhere, and I don’t intend to leave you to deal with this on your own. You get strange ideas when you’re left to your own devices.”

Crowley tried to pull his head away at that. Knowing that Aziraphale was right didn’t make it any easier, and he wasn’t quite ready to face it.

However, much like before, Aziraphale was not going to let it go that easily, which included letting go of the snake’s head.

“Please, Crowley. I know this is difficult and I am not asking that we sort it all out now or even in one go.”

A small smile graced his lips, though it seemed just the tiniest bit odd. “Goodness, the amount of drink we’d have to consume in order to get ourselves to do that in the first place, much less carry through with it, eh?”

Crowley somehow managed a hiss that sounded like a snort, one of amused agreement.

This felt…better. Or at least his head did, even if it was only a little bit. Then again, he’d take pretty much anything at this point, he’d have to admit, because everything hurt, and he really wanted it to stop. Not just stop a little but stop completely.

In fact, drink sounded like a superbly good idea right now. Drink until he was positively sozzled, until he couldn’t remember any of this. A stupor was what he needed, like the one he’d had to crawl into when he’d gone and seen why he’d been given a commendation for the Spanish Inquisition.

That would mean he’d have to change back into human shape. Or at the very least, he’d have to move.

Quite honestly, he wasn’t sure he could manage either right now.

Nor did he think that Aziraphale would allow him to slither away.

Aziraphale was always the anchor in this, wasn’t he? The rock that Crowley could crash against over and over when these things happened and he was still there, ready to be clung to when the next crash happened.

Was he mixing his metaphors? Possible, but it was nevertheless true and the best way that he could describe it, so he didn’t much care.

But that was…that wasn’t fair. It shouldn’t be Aziraphale’s job to sort out Crowley’s messes over and over again. That was not the point of being nestmates, was it? For one to be the drag on the relationship, the metaphorical stone around his neck that would hamper if not outright prevent flight, metaphorical or otherwise.

They were supposed to lift each other up, weren’t they? That was the whole symbolism of the blessed feathers they gave each other when they agreed to be nestmates, wasn’t it?

He suddenly wished he had the necklace with him still. But, on the double grounds that he’d struggle to keep it on as a snake and he didn’t want it to slip off and get lost or damaged, he’d taken it off before he’d initially shifted into snake form to scare customers off,. Hadn’t he? He’d thought so but he suddenly wasn’t sure at all. His head was too much of a mess right then.

There was a noise that took a moment for him to notice actually came from him; it made no sense for it to come from Aziraphale, as it was one of distress, slight pain and exhaustion, but at the same time, he wouldn’t have thought he, as a snake, that he was capable of making such a noise.

As he had the wish, had the thought, he felt the absence of the necklace and its feathers keenly. Its presence had become somewhat integral and natural to him since he’d been given the feathers and had created it, in the same way that you might not feel a ring on your finger after a while of wearing it but the moment you take it off, its lack of presence burns a band around the digit.

What was more, its absence seemed to have another, unexpected effect; it felt like a gut-punching confirmation that he was indeed a dragging weight, not worthy to bear the feathers and what they represented, both individually and together.

Not worthy of being Aziraphale’s nestmate.

He did not rise Aziraphale up in the slightest, did he? Of course, he’d say that he would but that was the angel being kind again, to a creature who…who wasn’t…who could never…

He only realised that he’d got lost in his own head again when he was suddenly surrounded by whiteness and he had no idea where and when it had got there. To be honest, for a moment or two, he didn’t even know what it was.

Not all of it was wings, though. In his mental absence, Aziraphale had also moved them up to the bedroom which, though not exactly overused, were still a not infrequent place for them to stay, together.

A sort of safe haven for the two of them, and only for the two of them.

Aziraphale was still sitting upright, even though he might easily have lain down and stretched out on the bed. Instead, he’d only shifted so his legs were on either side of the huge mass that was the snake, not stretched but as close to crossed as they could get around the occult reptile.

The rest of his body was curled around the snake, too. Not quite as much as the legs but close enough and his wings completed the picture, essentially giving Crowley a cocoon of soft warmth that he could shelter inside.

That he could take comfort and warmth in and try to regain some mental equilibrium.

The noise he’d been inadvertently and inexplicably making had vanished, too, and the tension in his coils had loosened. It was only the tiniest bit, but it was more than he thought it would’ve been, i.e. nothing.

Even so, this took him rather greatly by surprised and he looked at his angel, his expressionless face still managing to communicate the question.

“It seems to have helped you before when I’ve done something similar, so I thought that it would be worth the attempt.”

He cradled the snake head in both hands, caressing the scales with his thumbs. If he could have, Crowley would’ve closed his eyes in enjoyment. And gratefulness, too, obviously.

As it was, his coils loosened a little bit further and he pressed into the contact, just grateful to have Aziraphale still be here, touching him. Well, being with him in general, actually, regardless of whether he touched or even helped.

Just so long as he didn’t lose him. Unworthy as he was, he would do anything that could possibly be required of him to be allowed to remain with Aziraphale. Preferably as nestmates but honestly…anything.

“I am here,” Aziraphale whispered. “Whatever you need, dearest, I am here. We’ll talk about it when you’re ready. For now, just…unwind and breathe easy. Let go. I am here. You’re safe here. Nothing’s going to happen. They will not find you. The nest is okay, it will be okay. Nobody will ruin it.”

He leaned forward a tiny bit further still and tugged gently at the head cradled in his hands, gentler than he had before and the snake followed him, allowing him to guide it up to rest against his shoulder and throat, one plump hand resting on top of his head with the utmost care.

“You haven’t ruined anything, and you never could, I promise you,” he continued, his voice still low, yet loving in a way that even Crowley at his most self-deprecating couldn’t fail to hear.Then the hand moved so that lips could press against his scales, lingering.

It should be impossible, given his current shape, but Crowley felt moistness in his eyes that was more than should’ve been there. Given that they had nothing to trap them, they fell as soon as they appeared.

He pressed into the throat next to him, his tears running down both his own throat and that of his angel’s, soaking through shirt and bowtie.

Overwhelmed, to say the least, and barely hanging together at this point, but finally beginning to feel like he might be able to pull himself together again into something resembling himself at some point, even if that might take ages, Crowley let go.

Not merely in the sense of allowing his emotions to run free, if you could call it ‘allowing’, as he had before when he’d broken down and cried. Well, sobbed, really, and Aziraphale had held him.

It wasn’t easy, even at this point – possibly especially at this point – but he managed to let go of any and all thoughts that crowded in his mind, big and small, crucial and trivial. Everything but the most basic of functions was allowed to drift away under the protection of his nestmate, the love of his angel.

Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed.

It was just the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three weeks of wait and this is all I could give you? I'm truly, honestly sorry I've taken this long for this little. I'll try my best to make it up to you and give you another chapter hopefully within the weeks. Hopefully, it's been filled with something, then, at least. It certainly felt that way writing it but what do I know?   
> That it was hard to write, I do know that. Excuse me while I go put something nice and soothing on.


	5. The calm after the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After you have cried and screamed, broken down and let go, comes the quiet, the calm. The place where you have a chance to heal. But when you've run a particular pattern long enough, it can be difficult to break it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...I cannot thank you all enough. For the support, for the love and for the patience from all of you. It's really meant such an enormous lot to me, in so many ways and just...thank you.

How long they remained there, Crowley couldn’t say. It might’ve been minutes, or it could’ve been hours. For all he knew, it could’ve been days, as he wouldn’t put it past Aziraphale to do something like that, if that was what he believed was needed.

He couldn’t even recall when Aziraphale had taken off his clothes, whether by hand or miracle, or when he had shifted back into his human shape. That he was naked, too, was something that only registered after everything else.

What he did know when he finally surfaced, slowly and groggily, was that everything in him ached, from the exceedingly physical to the completely metaphysical.

Strangely, though, that ache was…well, it was wrong to call it pleasant because it really wasn’t. It wasn’t painful, either, however, which puzzled him. He was used to painful, to a greater or lesser degree, he was a demon, after all.

Instead it was…cathartic.

The emotional equivalent of the air after a storm has been brewing for days, perhaps more, then raged on and on, never seeming to have an end in sight as it thundered and crashed, destroying all around it as it went. Only to finally exhaust itself and fade away, leaving behind destruction, yes, but also that special scent of after-rain that rasps in your lungs and cannot be explained but says that now it’s passed.

It’s over and you’re still here. You are here, you made it through, and you can move forward. It’s a new beginning.

It’s a promise.

He lifted his head ever so slowly, as if things would waver and fade to nothing if he moved with any kind of speed, only halfway noticing that his head had been resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder, pressed up against his neck. It wasn’t much that he did lift it, though.

Had he even moved in all the time that had passed? It didn’t look like it, did it?

He must’ve moved a little, though, if nothing else than for shifting back to a human shape.

A part of him was proud he’d managed to do that, after spending that long as a snake, unconsciously. A larger part was merely relieved not to be stuck.

That had always been a fear he’d harboured, silly though it probably was; that one day he would change, to snake form or even something else, and he would forget how to shift back into his human form. Or he’d get stuck halfway, which wouldn’t be much better.

He more than half-expected Aziraphale to be, if not asleep because he still so very rarely did that, then at least mentally checked out, as closed as his bookshop in terms of input. It’d make sense for him to at least employ the time as usefully as possible, stuck as he was.

Stuck taking care of Crowley again. Picking up the pieces of the mess he made.

Was that how it was always going to be between them as nestmates?

How could he then say that nothing had changed? Or that things had become better?

Even as those words floated through his mind, he felt a disconnect from them, as though they were really happening to someone else and he was just an unintended voyeur.

Which would’ve been incredibly nice and convenient if that was the case, so of course it wasn’t.

But though he tried to grab for them, out of a conviction that sooner or later, they’d come crashing back and he would be better off if they didn’t manage to sneak up on him unaware at the same time, they remained out of reach. What was more, they didn’t feel like they were about to crash down.

In fact, as he strained to reach, just to get the pain over with – and, though he wasn’t able to come to terms with that in his mind enough to name it, to get back to a state that he was familiar with and could ‘deal with’, at least theoretically – he felt them fading. Not away, not entirely, but certainly into the background in a way that he hadn’t experienced in what felt like an eternity. Into the mists in the depths of his mind.

They had come out of that very depth, too, that mist, just now, he felt…or thought he felt, at least.

The feeling of catharsis he’d just achieved didn’t seem particularly inclined to loosen its grip on him.

His thoughts were in any case turned back to the person who held him.

“Aziraphale?” he asked, his voice the involuntary susurration that you gain when you haven’t spoken in far too long and your voice has seemingly forgotten how it’s supposed to operate. Even to the keenest ear, it was barely audible.

The angel stirred immediately, nevertheless, proving that he hadn’t been asleep or even mentally absent. Not even a little bit, which quite honestly surprised Crowley more than a little. A lot, actually.

A hand pushed its way through the thickness of the red hair, in much the same way as it had across the smoothness of the scales on his head. The same caress of tenderness and love.

Whatever did he do to even remotely deserve this angel, both literally and figuratively, to not just be in his damned, immortal existence and for such a long time, too, but to actively seek him out, be his friend and even be willing to be his nestmate?

Crowley had no idea. Nothing could’ve been big enough, weighty enough on whatever scale was employed these days to weigh such measures, to possibly counteract the fact of…well, him and him being a demon, never mind actually make him worth it.

Again, the hand went through, carrying with it, daft as that sounded, more of those remnants in his mind.

“Well, hello there,” Aziraphale said as he smiled down at Crowley.

He didn’t make any comment as to the length of time that had passed while the demon…did whatever it was he’d needed to do – Crowley hadn’t been in any mental position to check what time it had been when Aziraphale had moved them up here so he couldn’t even take an educated guess – how lovely it was to finally see him back or anything remotely along those lines.

Nothing that could possibly make Crowley feel guilty.

It was clear that at least there was someone who had taken the promises they’d made to each other seriously and was trying his best to honour them.

Freed, at least for now, from the spiral that he’d slid down on like the helter skelter from hell – which hadn’t in fact been demonically engineered, but other fairground staples such as the dodgems and the claw machine had been something Crowley had helped conceive, for that low-grade, but snowballing nastiness between humans that tarnished their souls – the demon could acknowledge that he’d been trying, too, as hard as he could.

That he still seemed to fail was another matter.

“So much for you being able to get support from me,” Crowley muttered, not entirely sure where that had come from. Well, no, he knew exactly where that had come from, he was just surprised it had made it past his lips, given all that had just occurred. Then again, that was par for the course when it came to talking these things out with Aziraphale.

The fact that it came out dry as cinder, though not sardonic, rather than sopping, or perhaps sobbing, wet was a small something, though.

“Now you’re just being contrary for the sake of it,” Aziraphale said but though the words themselves were likely meant to poke at Crowley for being just a little bit ridiculous, the tone and the expression on the angel’s face belied and undermined them entirely, which was just as well.

He leaned in and down, to capture Crowley’s lips in a kiss that might be brief but managed to pour a lot of love into it.

“That is not how it works, my dear,” the blond said when they parted, “which I think you know.”

“It does when it’s one-sided.”

Even after all this, his mouth seemed determined to sabotage him.

“Whatever makes you think that it’s one-sided?”

About everything that I’ve done, perhaps? Crowley thought but somehow managed not to voice out loud. Or at least, he succeeded in modulating it into something a bit less dramatic and somewhat more constructive.

“Ever since…ever since you agreed to…since we became nestmates, I haven’t exactly…you’ve been the one who has had to help and support me over and over again where I have been nothing but a mess.”

Well, at least in terms of what he meant if not outright in his communication of it, which was something.

Aziraphale shook his head slowly, as though not to dismiss what was being said but to gently disagree.

“Dealing with fears, what appears to be deep-seated traumas and other such personal issues does not equal being a mess, dear. Never. Dealing with them at all is always taxing, quite apart from being a continuous brave act, and you have been dealing with a lot of them practically all at once since…since I started nesting, probably.”

He pressed another kiss to Crowley’s temple, something which really was quite addictive in its comfort.

“To have that much in your head and your heart all at once,” he continued, “together with not just nesting, and the tremendous shift that is, but the instincts that accompany said nesting, which I honestly should’ve paid far better attention to than I have, then it is hardly any wonder that you’ve been struggling as you have. Nor that there’d be a point where something would tip the scales all the way to one side and sent you into a spiral.”

“You’re not hit with the instincts.” It was meant as an observation but not as an accusation.

Thankfully, it seemed as though Aziraphale took it as it was meant. “Apart from the one to nest in the first place, you mean?” he asked, the corner of his lip quirking.

Crowley pulled himself a bit more upright to better be able to see and take part in an actual conversation, which was a lot easier when you could see facial expressions. He was still mostly leant against the soft, warm body of his angel, though, and said angel’s arms were still around him.

“That wasn’t an instinct.”

“Not exactly, no, you’re right,” the blond conceded. “I cannot claim that. But perhaps…perhaps it is something that awakens in the one the nest is made for. Or your serpentine nature coming into play.”

That…made a bit of sense, actually. Didn’t feel like all of it regarding the instinct, though, not at all, but covered quite a bit between the two.

“You haven’t experienced any other instances of instincts overwhelming you or even dictating what you wanted to do, have you?”

Crowley shook his head. Not as far as he recalled, no, bearing in mind that his head still wasn’t the most crystal-clear right then.

“Then it does seem the likely candidate, doesn’t it?”

“I didn’t…I didn’t want them to ruin it.”

“You said as much, yes.”

The ginger shook his head.

“No, I don’t think you – I was terrified that it could be ruined. Am terrified,” he corrected himself, because if they were going to talk about it, sort it out, then it would only be counter-productive to lie, and he could still feel that terror slithering in his mind. “That customers would…will sully it, destroy it.”

Aziraphale’s expression said that yes, he was following, this was still things he knew from being told at some point during their conversation/argument earlier or working it out himself. At the same time, it said to go on and tell the rest of it, he was listening.

“I know how much you hate that people come in and touch the books, much less try to buy them but that’s…that wasn’t really it. I’ve known you deal with that for years and haven’t exactly...done anything to him. At least, nothing like I...”

A frown wrinkled his brow and pulled up his nose as he thought about it properly, without the emotions…as much in charge, at least, as they had been and the instinct well and truly curbed.

“Think I…I was, I _am_ terrified that if the nest is touched or sullied, and especially if something happens that destroys it, without destroying the both of us in the process – “ It didn’t exactly take a Mensa membership to work out what he was alluding to – “of course, then…then I couldn’t help thinking – “

He had to swallow, the reality of bringing that up to the surface and actually put it into words much more difficult and harder than he’d thought.

Where was his cool now?

But this wasn’t the time or the place…no, that wasn’t it. If there ever was any place he could be not merely suffered or even allowed but outright approved of and endorsed to not be or at least appear cool, then it was here, together with Aziraphale. Any place when he was with his angel would qualify for that, but in particular this little spot, which had gone from something that was never used to having sort of become a nest within a nest.

And besides, if he couldn’t let his wings out, as it were, and be vulnerable with his nestmate, then he didn’t have to worry about the nest, he’d manage to destroy the entire thing himself, even if the car crash of it might happen in slow motion.

The angel waited patiently for him to get through it, something that also warmed and helped.

“I can’t help thinking, somewhere in the depths, that if I do that, if I allow that to happen, then I’ll have destroyed…us being nestmates, too.”

He closed his eyes at that, the pain and embarrassment of admitting that greater than he would’ve thought it to be. Pathetic it probably was, too. No, not probably. Definitely.

If he expected to hear laughter or at least a chuckle after that admission, he was to be…not disappointed as that implied that he’d wanted there to be laughter, which he didn’t, but, perhaps, unsatisfied.

Nor was there a sigh or other noises of exasperation, though. Not even an ‘oh, Crowley’, which was probably what he’d been expecting the most.

Instead, what he got was lips pressing against his temple again. This time, however, they lingered. He leaned into the contact, trying to take deeper breaths and calm himself back down.

He was still here. Nothing had gone wrong. It was okay. It would be okay. Yes. Aziraphale wasn’t leaving. Wasn’t leaving him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anything happen here? Sorry if it didn't :(  
> It seems that this is just the length of chapter I can write for this particular story, however long I get. Only 'defence' is that it's still hard emotionally to write for me - and I've put up almost 20k words worth of fic these last two days. Might've something to say, too.  
> I'll try, though, I promise. :)


	6. Finding a root cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley try to work out why this particular incident shook the demon like that. Apart from the obvious, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I cannot thank you all enough for your sweetness and understanding. Thank you.  
> I couldn't think up a better summary but it beats writing that up there, at least.

When the lips pulled away, after what felt a very long time but in all likelihood wasn’t – the fact that they left a warm, but somehow slightly cool, tingling sensation in their wake wasn’t a reliable indicator either way – Crowley braved opening his eyes again.

“Thank you,” the angel said, voice soft but filled with sincerity and love, not to mention pride.

“What for?”

Aziraphale forewent correcting him on the grammar, which was a pretty good indicator he was as proud as he appeared to be.

“For admitting such a thing openly to me.”

Crowley opened his mouth to spout something along the lines of ‘it’s only words’ but he stopped himself before any words could slip out.

Because it wasn’t ‘only’ words, was it? It was what lay behind the words, both the implications and the emotions of it, both of which were very important.

He could hardly say ‘you’re welcome’, though, could he?

Aziraphale placed a hand on his cheek.

“I believe I understand your train of thought.”

Crowley couldn’t help but snort slightly at that. “Glad one of us do.”

But Aziraphale didn’t rise to it.

Unlike Crowley, Aziraphale rarely, if ever, snapped his fingers when he performed a miracle. He didn’t do that this time, either, but nevertheless, when he detached his other hand from the ginger’s back and brought it round to float between them…

There was the necklace, the crystal unbroken and even unchipped, the feathers inside exactly as they were when he’d encased them. Then again, being encased in crystal ought to mean they were unable to be ruffled.

If only Crowley could say the same, eh?

The demon looked at one of the most precious things he owned – it certainly vied heavily with the Bentley for top spot – and felt the urge to snatch it from the plump hand and put it on immediately. A rather strong urge at that.

It was safe, though, he knew that. Technically, it was infinitely safer and better protected in Aziraphale’s hand then it had ever been where he’d placed it when he’d shifted into snake form.

One might’ve thought that it, along with his sunglasses and his clothes, that it’d stay on him when he shifted and ordinarily, that would’ve been true. Except that this wasn’t purely something he’d materialised nor was it made by humans. Either of those cases, it would’ve been fine and perfectly doable.

Except, while the crystal and chain were both his doing, the feathers themselves were not. Were in fact angelic, which was rather the point, but that meant they wouldn’t shift with him. They might, in fact, free them from their container, unintentionally, and he might lose them.

Which was a thought that couldn’t be thoughted. If he tried, he felt the entirety of his chest constrict.

What Aziraphale meant by bringing it here, though, he didn’t understand.

He frowned up at the other, question etched into every line.

“One might say that these are as much part of being nestmates as the nest itself. It certainly shares the element of the feathers,” Aziraphale said.

His free hand had slipped from Crowley’s cheek and was now laid over the spot on his jacket that the demon knew held his own little collection of feathers.

“However, were I to lose them,” and his fingers tightened, seemingly quite involuntarily, around the place where the pocket was, “God forbid, would you say that I was…no longer entitled to be called or be considered your nestmate?”

The way Crowley shook his head at that, without hesitation, brought a sort of composite expression to the angel’s features, somewhere between happy and relieved, slightly frustrated, adoring and saddened.

“No, I didn’t imagine so.”

He shifted, backwards a little so it was easier for him to look his nestmate in the eye and, somehow, simultaneously also closer to him, despite how close they’d already been ought to mean they couldn’t get any closer.

“As I said, I follow the logic and I do not blame you, not in the slightest. There is a lot of things that…that I would like to help you confront and work through, but first, I need you to listen to one thing, understand? Listen very carefully – “

“I shall say this only once?”

“Sorry?”

“Never mind. Don’t know where that came from.”

“Small release of tension, possibly?”

“Probably. Sorry.”

“No need to apologise.” He paused, but only so he could slip the chain of the necklace over the demon’s head. Once that was done, he placed his hand on top of the crystal for a moment, pressing it into the other’s chest just a little. “Will you listen?”

“Of course, angel.” There was the tiniest hint of a quirked lip at that, which in turn made the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth turn up.

“No matter what happens, to the feathers, to our nest or to us, through dying or destruction, you do not cease being my nestmate. Unless that is your decision, of course, but I do not believe that it is. No, I thought not. Otherwise, I am yours, do you hear me?”

Crowley nodded. He then closed the gap between them to capture those soft lips and draw them into a soft kiss that he took, if not charge of then at least the lead on.

“Sorry that you have to keep reassuring me like that,” he muttered when they parted.

“My dear, I will reassure you a thousand times over, if need be, and more. I am only sorry that it’s taken me this long to see it.”

Crowley lifted an eyebrow, his heart pounding like someone in desperate need of the toilet, his entire body struggling to contain the love for his angel. “You know you’re too perfect by half sometimes?”

That brought a small, but clear laugh out of the angel. “Hardly. I do appreciate the sentiment, though, dear, thank you.”

He paused as something seemed to occur to him. “I do apologise for how I handled the situation when I found you. That was, quite frankly, unacceptable.”

The demon shook his head. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was. I should’ve asked instead of merely getting angry.”

“You did ask – “To be entirely honest, he couldn’t remember for certain whether he had, but that wasn’t the point, “and I understand.”

Aziraphale drew in a breath to argue further but Crowley continued before he could, speaking fast to get in there before the blond could get a word in.

“I was putting not just the nest but the bookshop itself in jeopardy and it’s a bloody mi – wonder that nothing actually happened, one way or the other. It’s your shop and your books, which both mean a lot to you. I would be furious, too, if something threatened the Bentley.”

For a moment, Aziraphale’s face made an odd twisting motion, as though he wanted to agree and disagree at the same time and his expression was caught in the limbo of that.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing but a small, voiceless sound came out, which seemed to be a slight surprise to them both. Crowley didn’t try to fill it but waited for the other to be able to continue.

After a few long moments, Aziraphale seemed to manage it.

“It may be my shop, which I can and will protect, but it is our nest,” he said, his voice quiet and just a little…slower, as though he was weighing how best to phrase as he was speaking. “Not my nest. Ours. As much yours as it is mine. I should not blame you for trying to protect it and in truth, I do not.”

He paused, a look of mild self-deprecation that Crowley really didn’t want to see, because it shouldn’t ever be on his angel’s face, crossing his features.

It took a long time before he continued, or at least so it felt to Crowley. “…I suppose I was afraid, too.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“Of what they might do, thinking that I might protect you by keeping things…no, that’s not it. Oh, I don’t know. Nothing that I can formulate in my head seems adequate to explain it or even particularly true.”

Now he looked annoyed, though evidently with himself more than anything.

For some reason, the fact that he was struggling to understand and was annoyed about, along with the quite frankly astonishing fact that _Aziraphale_ was the one who couldn’t find the words to explain what he was feeling, actually loosened something inside of Crowley that he hadn’t noticed had been coiled so tight and he couldn’t help but laugh a little.

For a moment, Aziraphale looked even more annoyed, and just a tad hurt. Then his face brightened up a little into a soft smile.

“Sorry,” Crowley muttered, realising what he’d done. “I know that isn't something that – “

“No, don’t apologise. It is quite ridiculous, I agree.”

There was that minute self-deprecation again. Or not so minute.

“Aziraphale – “Crowley began, reaching out to grab hold of the soft hands, holding them together with his own on either side. “Angel, listen. Please. I didn’t mean to make fun of you. I honestly didn’t, I just – you’re always eloquent and never at a loss for words, no matter the subject.”

No, that wasn’t helping much, either, was it?

He hurriedly ploughed on. “It helped to…knowing that you didn’t know how to explain it precisely if at all but that you’ve been scared, as well, actually helped something inside. I can’t explain it, either, but it doesn’t, doesn’t hurt as much as it did before.”

That admission seemed to do the rest of the trick, as it were, and brightened Aziraphale’s face up some more.

“Oh.”

Crowley nodded, as though to reaffirm. “You’ll figure it out soon,” he said, confidence in his voice.

“Thank you, dear.” There was something in the smile that said he didn’t quite believe him but appreciated the sentiment.

However, he turned his hands around so they could catch and hold the bony ones, interlacing their fingers.

“Your instincts, whether they be that purely of the receiving nestmate or there is something serpentine in it as well, is something we must – “

“Deal with?”

“No, because that implies either that they’re a necessary evil or that they’re something to be gotten rid of, neither of which is true. But we need to be aware of them and prepared for them in the future.”

“Especially when the forces of Heaven decide to pay the bookshop a visit, you mean?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, hesitated, then released his breath as though it needed a push to make it over the ledge.

“…yes,” he agreed, just a tad reluctantly. “For that as well, but not primarily so. Not at all. I know, or at least, I believe I know where your thoughts on the matter come from and I share them, but we made this decision knowing that fear. This isn’t for Heaven, or for Hell, for that matter. This is for the two of us. Working through things – “

“Working through my fucking continued utter mess.”

Because even though he felt better about things, had had some sense of genuine catharsis, there were still some things that he hadn’t let go of yet. Couldn’t let go of that easily, much as he wanted to. Their roots ran much deeper, drinking from water that had been polluted and tainted in one way or another, often in several ways at once, for millennia.

“– Things so that we might better support and help each other,” Aziraphale continued, completely ignoring the comment, “in whatever capacity it might be needed. That you have been unlucky enough to suffer and thereafter carry traumas that I do not, that I cannot even truly fathom, does not make you weaker or pathetic. Nor does it make you unworthy of asking for help or receiving it nor incapable of growing past it. With enough time and support, of course.”

“You…seem to have worked all of that out really well.” Not to mention verbosely, if not necessarily eloquently, but he wasn’t going to bring that up again.

“Well, I wasn’t quite sitting idle while you rested,” Aziraphale said, with another smile.

It really was funny, though funny in the sense of being peculiar rather than something to laugh about. Crowley had seen so many of Aziraphale’s smiles over the years that he ought not just be familiar with every single permutation but have their effectiveness…not exactly stopped but at least dulled significantly.

But it hadn’t. Not in the slightest and he in fact found himself more caught by them and enamoured with them the more he saw. Found that he was trying to memorise each and every one of them, even now that he got to see so many more of them.

“However, I am sorry that I didn’t realise – “

Crowley shook his head. “No apologies.”

“Crowley…”

Another headshake. “If I’m not allowed, then neither are you.”

“I never said that you weren’t – “

“No, but it was in what you didn’t say.”

“Crowley, don’t pretend you suddenly are capable of easily picking up on such things when…oh.”

The slight frown of annoyance became the slightly arched eyebrows of realisation and then somewhat complicated squiggle of believed understanding.

“You’re…having a laugh.”

“Mainly at my own expense, but yeah. Sorry if that didn’t come through clearly, by the way.”

“It’s quite alright.”

A moment’s pause, then, quietly, “…you sure?”

“Absolutely, my dearest.”

Crowley leaned forward and kissed his angel again for that. Not only was he still marvelling, and he wasn’t sure that he’d ever stop, at the simple fact that he could do this, he was marvelling at the reality that he still had…this.

His Aziraphale was still here; he was still his nestmate, had no intention of leaving, and what was more, and almost the most important bit of all, he was willing to not only stay with but try and sort, or at least start to sort out some of the problems he had.

That was far more than he could ever have wished for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one. Seems to just be what has to be for this story...I'm so grateful you don't seem to mind <3 <3  
> I could probably end it here but there's a little bit more I'd like to solve on it. So, one more chapter, I think, then we're done. At least with this instalment. :)  
> Btw, I know Aziraphale does snap his fingers in the show but mostly, he doesn't, afaik


	7. Our Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale try to work out how they proceed from here, what the solution to their current problem is as it won't go away on its own and cannot been solved purely through talking this one time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little earlier than expected but I wanted to have it finished this month, hence the odd weekday and date. Thank you again for the understanding and support. <3

They stayed sitting in silence, comfortable and warm, more or less wrapped in each other, just coming down from everything that had happened to them and finding back to each other.

Crowley took to nuzzling into the other’s neck again, with his nose and his lips and the side of his face, his body migrating itself slowly but surely until he was practically in Aziraphale’s lap. Not that either was going to complain about it any time soon.

Aziraphale for his part had started to card his hand through the thick, red hair that was a flaming sunset in the reflection of polished copper. It seemed to be something of a comfort gesture now, not just to Crowley but to Aziraphale as well.

He even scratched lightly at the scalp from time to time with his manicured nails, which made the demon purr. A purr that ended in a contented hiss but a purr, nevertheless.

Between them hung the necklace, the crystal dangling back and forth, touching first one chest then the other. In a sense connecting them through the symbol of their nestmate status.

A symbol, yes, but only that. Not the thing itself. Never the thing itself.

He would have to remember that.

“Angel?” he asked after an eternity, or an hour, had passed like that, and he felt more content and right with the world.

“Yes?” The word was more a hum than anything else.

“What do…what can I do if, when this sort of instinct surfaces again?”

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about in all this time?” Aziraphale asked and his tone was more than a little worried.

“Only the last five minutes or so. The rest of the time has just been noise, but…pleasant noise? Like the one you get just before you slip off to sleep. Am I making any sense?”

“A lot of sense, my dear.”

Aziraphale turned his head and managed to kiss, not Crowley’s temple but his cheekbone, which, while not quite as good was lovely, too.

“I think, to answer your question, that a start would be to make you a greater part of the nest. Make it into ours rather than mine in more than words, for one.”

“But that’s not…it will be always be the nest of the one who made it. Then they share it with their intended nestmate, but it still belongs to them.”

“Not necessarily.”

“That’s how it _works.”_

Crowley sounded…not exactly panicky or desperate but adamant in a way that spoke of truths that were unchangeable. Which might’ve been just a slight bit odd, given not only his side and his nature, but what he’d done. Hadn’t he been kicked out of Heaven, forced to Fall, or saunter downwards, as he normally phrased it, for the crime of asking questions?

But he had just been through quite the something and was, though he did indeed feel better, still rather raw and fragile about it.

Not to mention that even the most stalwart, dyed-in-the-wool rebel will be likely to have at least one thing that is unassailable and set in stone, even if it might clash with everything else that they believe.

Crowley didn’t think about either of those possible explanations, however.

What he thought about was how he kept refusing what Aziraphale said; his attempts to help him, and the guilt of that sent his thoughts racing, thankfully in a useful direction instead of around in circles, which might as easily have been the case.

He could think again, or at least think without his thoughts getting clogged up with anything and everything else, which was almost the same thing. Didn’t he owe it to Aziraphale, and himself, to use that?

Well, then.

He pressed his face back into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, not in an effort to hide or because he was upset. It had calmed him to stay with his face like that and now as just before he’d asked the question, he found that it helped him to think. Without descending into a panic, either, or have his thoughts careen off without him, more often than not into a straight-up crash.

However, to make sure that Aziraphale didn’t think that something was wrong or that he was struggling again, he pressed a quick kiss to the side of the neck and said, clearly, “It’s okay, I’m fine, just need a sec to think.”

It was how it worked, yes. But nesting wasn’t for…well, it was for demons, too, much rarer though it was. But it was not for demons and angels together. And yet, they had defied that, both of them.

Neither did ‘how it worked’ include the exchange of feathers, at least not the way they’d done it.

You weren’t supposed to give more than the one, maybe two, feathers as acceptance for a nest, and certainly not four. Nor were the one nesting supposed to give any feathers back, neither.

And yet, they had – and Crowley had been the instigator on at least one of them. If he could change that, be more than okay with deviating from ‘how it worked’ on something as important as that, well, why not the rest?

Couldn’t they rewrite the rules a bit in general? Aziraphale seemed to have no issue, at least in what he portrayed – part of Crowley resolved to find out whether the angel really was putting on a brave face for his sake and to help him in turn if that was the case, because he could _do_ that, bless it, and he wasn’t going to allow his beloved to deal with that alone – and he was the rule-follower.

If the rule-follower could, then surely, the veteran rulebreaker shouldn’t have any issue. Right?

He pressed another kiss to the other’s neck, grateful that he’d taken this moment to think and that Aziraphale had allowed him to have it.

With that, he pulled up and back until he could see the other’s face clearly.

And his heart clenched a little, seeing the slight worry there. More than slight, really, though he’d still given the ginger the time he needed, without question.

“Crowley?”

“I’m fine, angel, really. Thank you, though, and I’m sorry that I worried you. Just needed to think about something for a minute.”

“Of course.”

“Should’ve said, though.”

“You did, my dear. I suppose I just…I interpreted it as something done for my benefit rather than genuine feeling on your part or at least something close to that”

Crowley opened his mouth at that, made a sort of audial pause and closed it again.

He honestly didn’t know what to say to that.

“It’s silly, I know.” The demon shook his head, because it wasn’t, especially not in comparison with all that Crowley had just put him through. Put them both through, really. “Oh, yes, it is. Understandable, perhaps, but still silly.”

The angel carded his hand through the red hair again, more slowly than he had before. “But what did you need to think about?”

“Breaking rules.”

“Oh?”

“I just said ‘that’s how it works’, right? Before.”

Aziraphale nodded. “You did.” His tone was somewhat carefully neutral.

“But we’ve…I started thinking about it hasn’t got to be how it works. That we’ve already changed things. Which, yeah, okay, becoming nestmates is, is the big one, I know. But smaller things, too. Like the feathers.”

Aziraphale put his hand over the crystal again at that and pressed it against the chest. “I would make the argument that the feathers were anything but a small thing, but I do understand what you mean.”

“If we… _I_ can get over that hurdle, with no real issue to mention, either, then I don’t get why I have that much issue with something like it becoming our nests as wells as yours. It makes no bleeding sense.”

Aziraphale again forewent making any comment. On the swearing.

“It’s not ‘as well’ as mine, dear.”

“Now you’re just being pedantic.”

“Well…yes?”

That made Crowley’s lips quirk up into something approaching a smile.

A moment’s silence followed that, then another.

Then, quietly, “Will you make it into our nest with me?”

Crowley blinked, feeling fairly sure he’d said the words but all that he heard was Aziraphale’s voice. No, wait, they’d both said it. They’d just said it simultaneously.

He nodded his head, then changed his mind and said, clearly, “Yes.”

At that, he leaned in for another kiss while his arms came up to wrap around the angel’s neck. That had not only the benefit of being an anchor but allowed him to tickle and touch skin that he knew to be sensitive as well as giving him access to indecently soft curls. Aziraphale wasn’t the only one who liked touching hair, after all.

That said, he did not expect for the blond to immediately lick at the seam of his lips and, well, not force himself in, as he’d never do that, but…employ some very effective persuasion.

He made up for it in spades, though, as he kissed him.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley gasped when they parted. That was not the way he’d expected it to go. Definitely not after, well…if he’d had his arms free, he would have spread them in indication.

“Yes, my dear?”

That wasn’t the same as saying he was complaining, though, was it?

“This wasn’t…wasn’t what I’d have thought you’d want to do.”

“Me? Am I not allowed to show my dearest nestmate in a more tangible sense how appreciated and loved he truly is?”

“Of course, but…”

“Well, then…”

With that, Aziraphale lowered himself backwards, carefully but nevertheless with some speed, until he was flat against the softness of the bed – and whenever this had been miracled into existence or bought or even altered, an incredibly good job had been done of it, Crowley had to admit – with the demon sprawled on top of him.

“Weren’t you supposed to go downstairs and look after…?” he began then let the words die away under the gaze he received from the other. “Right. Never mind.”

“Quite right.”

A moment of silence. Two.

“Can I just be clear here…you’re genuinely implying that you’re okay with staying here?”

“Yes?”

“With me?” That came out a lot more…vulnerable than he’d intended but at this point, that was much like worrying about the papercut on your finger when you a great big, gaping wound down your side.

“Always.”

“But potentially not doing much of anything for what might be an extended period of time.”

The fact that he’d already somewhat done that was irrelevant. This wasn’t aiding his nestmate through a difficult moment.

“Oh. I never said that. But for now, I’m quite content to stay here, with you sprawled out on top of me.”

“Angel…”

“Yes…?”

“Could it be that…you like cuddling?” Crowley lifted his head from where it had been resting on the other’s soft chest. It rose slowly. Almost snakelike, one might say. There was certainly something serpentine about the way that he smiled down at the other.

“Why, yes, I do, dear” Aziraphale said, entirely unperturbed, by the comment or by the grin directed his way. “I’m quite surprised you hadn’t worked that out already.”

“Oh, I had. It’s not as though it’s something that require Sherlock Holmes and Hercules Poirot to solve, is it? I just wanted to hear whether you were going to admit to it or not and how readily you – and what are you smirking about?”

“What on earth would I be smirking for?” Aziraphale said, feigning innocence. Feigning it rather well, too, but Crowley could tell he was doing it. “I do not smirk, in any case, I am an angel. It would be rather inappropriate of me to smirk, in any circumstances.”

The head of the demon moved closer at that, just as slowly as before, perhaps even slower. Despite that, he was getting rather close. The grin hadn’t faded a lot, either.

“Nevertheless, you’re smirking, angel,” he said, the grin in his voice as well. “Why are you smirking? Do tell me.”

“For the record, I am not smirking. But I might be slightly…pleasantly surprised to learn you know of at least two literary detectives.”

Yellow eyes widened, then narrowed as he began to realise just what Aziraphale was, indeed, smirking for. “Oh, come off it. It’s not as though I’ve read whatever books it is they star in or anything.”

“You must have read something.”

In another position, Crowley might’ve waved his hand in a manner designed to be dismissive. “I saw some of the TV series, for both the violin guy with the slick-backed hair and the one with the moustache and that symmetry-nonsense. Saw that movie of the train-one, too, that was awful.”

“Oh. I didn’t even know they’d made an adaptation of ‘Murder on the Orient Express’. I don’t suppose it’s still showing, is it?”

After more than three decades, more or less? Hardly. And alright, perhaps it hadn't been that bad, but...

“You wouldn’t like it. Trust me, Aziraphale. You wouldn’t. Best case scenario, you’d sit and try to ‘fix’ all the mistakes in the movie.”

He didn’t add ‘and that’s my job’ because Aziraphale didn’t need to know, did he? Then he would be morally obligated to come with him, if they could find somewhere it showed - there were cinemas that catered to purely old movies, he was sure; this was London, after all - and change things _back_ and where was…well, no, there could be some fun in that, he had to admit.

Suddenly, he frowned as something occurred to him, not noticing that he’d burrowed himself into the soft shape he was on top of quite effectively. Nor that Aziraphale hadn’t made even the smallest noise of protest during any of it.

“Since when do you have any interest in films, anyway? I can drag you away to a matinee of a theatre performance or the like, but I have never in the last hundred years been able to get you anywhere _near_ a cinema.”

“You don’t have to _drag_ me, don’t be overdramatic, dear. And if you’d told me that they illustrated works of literature on the celluloid as they do on stage, then I might’ve been far more inclined to listen and to go.”

“Overdramatic? _I’m_ the one who’s overdramatic?” Never mind the whole entire incident that had transpired, that was something else. “And it’s called ‘film’, Aziraphale, not celluloid, for crying out – and you’re taking the piss again, aren’t you?”

The angel smiled ever so innocently at that; his eyebrows raised. Just at the corners of the smile, however, lurked a suggestion that yes, he was.

Moreover, however, it was inviting Crowley to join in. The invitation was open, but it was open only for him.

As always.

Only and ever the two of them, in their own private little oasis.

Their very own Eden.

And this time, the only thing the snake tempted the occupants into was an extended snuggle-session and some serious petting of his scales, because it felt _good_.

That they might move on, later, to some more…figurative petting, as it were, was…

Well, perhaps that is a story for another time. Or perhaps better left to themselves.

* * *

The nest, once they sat down and worked it through together, ever mindful of the proverbial eyes, ended up quite a beauty.

But perhaps that is also for another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. All ended. I hope it was an alright, even moderately satisfactory ending that tied up at least a thing or two. If nothing else, I hope that it wasn't a disappointment to you.
> 
> I could leave the series here but I have one more idea, well, two, actually, that I'd like to write for it. So perhaps you'd join me on those? If there are other things you'd like to see in this, I'd like to hear them.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's left any kind of feedback on this, and especially the kind commenters! <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> It's a relatively short chapter to start off on, I know, but hopefully it's at least interesting. A little? I hope so. :S  
> I'm not claiming Crowley is in the right doing this, btw, just to be clear.  
> Also - yay, my first series with more than 2 stories in it.
> 
> Feedback is as always loved and treasured, providing potential criticism is constructive. :)


End file.
